Chapter Twenty WILLOW

The week goes by quickly. Homework starts to get a little more intense, and I have my first quiz in American Government on Friday. I spend a lot of my time after school holed up in my room or at the library with Iris, working on our assignments that are due.

Well, I work on them. Iris has a hard time concentrating sometimes. She’s such a social butterfly and she looks at us hanging out at the library as a chance to talk to lots of people. Meaning, she’s a complete distraction.

Gotta love her though.

Rhett and I talk in class and we even spoke during lunch today, but he told me he wouldn’t be around school tomorrow because they have to leave early to travel to their away game, which filled me with disappointment. And while he’s not asking for more—like my phone number or to go out on a date—he is chatting with me in my DMs at night. Flirtatious messages that leave me blushing and wondering if he’s telling the truth.

You looked hot today.

Do you ever wear any other color lipstick?

Wish you could go to my game Friday. I want to see you in the stands.

That last message gave me way too much hope. He wants to see me cheering him on? He wants me to go to the game? Why can’t I? Just because it’s far? I’m sure we could leave after school and watch them play.

It’s Thursday night and Iris is in my room, tapping away at her phone screen while sitting on my bed, not bothering to study for our upcoming test.

Typical.

I’m at my desk hunched over our textbook, my eyes crossing as I skim the first two chapters over and over again, trying to absorb what I’m reading. Highlighter pen in hand and running it over what seems like something vitally important and might appear on a quiz.

I hate studying.

“I hate studying,” Iris proclaims, as if she lives in my brain.

I glare at her from over my shoulder before returning my attention to the book. “Funny. Doesn’t look like you’re studying.”

“I’m not. I hate it, remember.” She sets her phone onto the mattress beside her and lets loose a long, forlorn sigh. “I am so ready for the weekend.”

“Are you doing anything special?” I don’t know why I bother asking. We’ll most likely be together but sometimes she goes home while I stay here, or I go to my house.

“Spending it with you on campus, most likely. I’m just ready for the break. School is such a drag.” She stretches her arms above her head and rolls over onto her side, staring at the wall. “I wish I’d graduated early.”

“You probably still could.”

“But that means I’d have to study extra hard and take exit exams. That sounds like a nightmare.”

“You can’t wish for one thing but not put in the work in order to achieve it,” I tell her.

She goes silent for long seconds. To the point that I turn in my chair to check on her. She’s staring at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

“Since when did you become an inspirational poster hanging on a classroom wall?” she asks.

“I’m just speaking truths, Iris.” I study her, noting how she keeps moving and shifting, like she can’t stay still. “Are you okay? You seem restless.”

“I am restless. I don’t know why, but everything around here is bugging me. I want out.” She scratches at the side of her neck, then gathers her hair and piles it on top of her head, holding it there with one hand. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”

“It’s just you. And what do you mean, you want out? Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere but here? I’m not sure. I just feel ready to spread my wings and fly right off this campus, never to see it again.” She drops her hand, her hair falling around her face and she shoves it out of the way with a frustrated sigh. “Don’t you ever feel that way?”

Not particularly, but I don’t want to say that out loud and make her feel bad, or worse, get into an argument over it. Besides, I had my chance to leave and while I enjoyed spending time in Italy, I also missed this place. And her. Plus, I don’t want to leave, not when something is starting to form between me and Rhett. That’s exciting. Why would I want to walk away from him now?

“You probably don’t ever feel that way,” she says when I still haven’t answered her. “You had your shot and lived it up in Italy. Honestly, I’m surprised you came back. I don’t think I would’ve been able to leave Europe to return to this mundane place.” Her tone is bitter and full of disappointment.

Hmm. Iris doesn’t act like this unless something or someone is bothering her. And I would love to know what this is all about. Who she might be referring to—or what. Not sure what occurred to make her talk like this, but I’d love to know what’s really going on.

“Did something happen to make you feel this way?” I ask her, not wanting to push, but not really wanting to talk in circles either. “You seem extra disappointed tonight.”

Iris sits straight up, throwing her arms in the air. “My dad happened, is what.”

Ah. That makes total sense. Sometimes they have conversations and the outcome isn’t what Iris was looking for. My father is extremely overprotective but Whit Lancaster takes it to another level.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, going to her and wrapping her up in a hug. “Did you guys get into a fight?”

“Not really. There’s no point in fighting with him. I’d never win. He’s so stubborn.” Iris presses her face against my old, faded T-shirt, rubbing it against the soft fabric, and I hope she’s not crying. That’s something she doesn’t really do.

“What did you talk about?”

“I told him I wanted to go to Europe over winter break, and he said absolutely not.” She sniffs but still doesn’t lift her head. “He’s such a jerk.”

“What do you mean, go to Europe over winter break? I didn’t know you were planning this.”

“I didn’t either. I just threw it at him to see how he’d react. I don’t know what possessed me to come up with such an idea, but I thought it sounded fun.” Her tone is glum. “He responded just like I thought he might.”

“Who were you going with on this European trip?” I sound vaguely jealous because I am kind of jealous. She’s never mentioned any European plans to me and I feel left out.

“No one! You, hopefully? I don’t know! I really want to go this summer, not over winter break. That’s coming up too soon. Or maybe I could go next year.” She sounds tentative. Unsure. And that is so not like Iris. “My father said a gap year was a bad idea and that I should go to college first. That he doesn’t want me to be ‘galivanting across Europe’ by myself because he’d worry about me the entire time. Like I can’t take care of myself.” Oh, she sounds sour.

“He’s just worried about you,” I start but she cuts me off, leaping to her feet so she can start pacing.

“I can’t be babied my whole life! I’m already eighteen. By the time I’d want to leave after graduation and everything else, I’ll be nineteen. Still with a leash on me thanks to my overprotective dad. He never does this sort of thing to August, and it’s so unfair. My brother can do whatever he wants and no one stops him.” Iris rests her hands on her hips, glaring at me. “And look at you! You went to Italy when you were only seventeen! All alone, doing your thing.”

“I was staying with a host family who took care of me like I was one of their own,” I remind her, my voice gentle. I don’t want to stir her up more. “I was going to school, was very much on a schedule similar to here. There weren’t a lot of differences.”

“But did you feel free? No one hovering over you, asking what you’re doing. That’s what I want. Freedom. As long as I’m living under Whit Lancaster’s rules, I will never be truly free. I’ve realized that.” Her face starts to crumple. “And it’s depressing.”

I leap to my feet and pull her into my arms, holding her close while she sobs into my hair. I’ve never seen her this upset before, and I wonder if this has to do with something else? Yes, she gets upset with her dad sometimes, but for the most part they always get along. She usually writes off his overprotectiveness as something amusing. A burden she has to bear, but like it’s a joke. And Iris definitely isn’t a crier.

“Maybe we should do something tomorrow,” I suggest.

“Like what?” she mumbles as she pulls away, wiping her tears away from her cheeks almost angrily.

I’ve been thinking about this for days, but I didn’t know who to ask to see if it’s an actual thing. Or I didn’t want to be too obvious to Iris either. “We could go to the football game.”

Her mouth drops open for a couple of seconds before she snaps it closed. “You want to go to the football game?”

“It might be fun.” I shrug.

It’s an away game.

“I know.” I hesitate. “Does the school put together a bus for students to attend those games?”

“Well, yeah. Sometimes. I don’t know if they’re doing one for tomorrow’s game.” Iris makes a face. “Do you really want to go?”

Yes. Yes, I am absolutely dying to go. “Maybe.”

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, that grimace still on her face. “I don’t think I want to. Sounds like a long night.”

Disappointment crashes through me. “Oh. Well, that’s okay. It was just a suggestion.”

“But you could go,” she says. “Maybe Bronwyn is going too. I’m sure you two would have a great time. Or I know, you can go with your parents. They’re probably going to watch your brother play.”

That doesn’t sound like as much fun. I love my parents and I’d like to watch my brother play football, but it would be weird without Iris there. And I really don’t want to go with just Bronwyn. She feels more like Iris’s friend versus mine, though we get along perfectly fine.

I’m being ridiculous, but I was really hoping Iris would want to tag along. I also don’t want to push and ask too many questions over why she’s saying no. Iris reveals only what she wants. If someone keeps badgering her, she’ll shut down completely.

“It was just an idea. Something different, like you mentioned earlier.”

“Something different for you, since you weren’t here last year,” Iris points out.

“Oh yeah. Right.” I return to my desk and settle back in for more studying, trying to ignore how sad I feel about not going to watch Rhett’s game. “I need to focus on studying for this quiz.”

“I should too.” Iris’s smile is faint. “Maybe we could help each other? Read sections out loud and try to absorb all of this pointless info in our brains?”

“Yeah.” I smile at her, trying to pretend I’m not disappointed. “That sounds like a good idea.”

***

I’m on campus Friday morning when I run into him. Rhett. He’s headed for the dining hall like I am, and I’m alone since Iris still isn’t out of bed yet. She always seems to run late on Fridays for some reason.

“Hey, Will,” Rhett greets me, stopping to wait for me to catch up to him. “Looking fine this morning.”

He’s given me compliments every morning all week, and I’m starting to look forward to them more and more. “Good morning. Ready for today’s game?”

“You know it.” His grin, his entire demeanor oozes confidence. I could just stand here and let him smile at me like that all day, basking in his presence. “We’re going to crush them.”

“Yeah, you will,” I tease, murmuring a thank you when he holds the door open for me as we enter the dining hall. “I thought you had to leave this morning.”

“I’m grabbing something to eat before we go.” He slows his pace so I can keep up with him. “The rest of the team is going to show up at any minute so I wanted to beat them and get the best selection.”

A laugh escapes me. “Sounds like a solid strategy.”

“You should grab something too before they all barge in here,” he encourages.

I get my usual bagel order and watch as Rhett piles a variety of food—including a breakfast burrito, a cup of mixed fruit, a banana, a blueberry muffin and two small cartons of chocolate milk—onto his tray. We’re headed to the checkout line, me laughing at whatever Rhett is saying because he is extremely entertaining, when we both hear someone call out his name.

It’s Headmaster Westscott, approaching us with an affable smile on his face, his attention all for Rhett.

“Ready for tonight’s game?” Westscott slaps Rhett on the back, his attention going to the overflowing tray Rhett is carrying. An amused smile curves his lips. “Looks like you’re gathering resources.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Rhett sends me a quick look. “You know Willow Lancaster, right?”

Westscott barely looks at me. “Of course, I do. Nice to see you again, Willow.”

“You too,” I murmur, surprised at how dismissive he is of me when he resumes his conversation with Rhett. I’m not used to that kind of treatment at Lancaster Prep.

“Do you mind giving us some privacy?” Westscott asks me once we’ve checked out with our meals. “I’d like to speak to Rhett here one-on-one.”

“Of course.” I’m about to say something to Rhett but Westscott grabs his arm and steers him away from me, leaving me standing there alone.

I watch them go, Rhett glancing over his shoulder with an apologetic smile, his gaze practically pleading with me to understand. Which I totally do. He has nothing to do with this. Westscott was the one who pulled him away from me. So rude.

I wonder what his problem is.

“Hey, Willow.”

I turn to see my brother coming toward me, his tray over-flowing with as much food as Rhett’s. “Hi, Row. I didn’t see you come in.”

“Too busy talking to Rhett and Westscott.” Row smiles, and I think for about the hundredth time that my brother looks almost exactly like my dad. Only difference is he doesn’t have the Lancaster blue eyes. They’re green, like our mom’s.

“He was weird to me.” When Row frowns, I add, “Headmaster Westscott.”

“What do you mean?”

“He barely acknowledged me. Was downright dismissive.”

“Westscott isn’t that impressed with the Lancaster name, if that’s what you’re referring to.” Row shrugs one broad shoulder. “Don’t take it personally.”

Ugh, we’re so spoiled, expecting people to bow down to us because we’re Lancasters. I don’t actually feel that way, but I am surprised when something like this happens.

“Besides, he’s obsessed with the football team, and Rhett in particular. He’s all about winning,” Row further explains. “And he loves that Rhett is too.”

Odd. For some reason, I don’t like hearing that Westscott is obsessed with Rhett. Seems weird. And I’m still not over how Westscott treated me either. My gut feeling says there’s something going on with his behavior toward me.

And I always trust my gut.